


what we do when we're bored

by metalmeisje



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Blood, F/M, Violence, shower sex implied?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 17:46:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6124971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metalmeisje/pseuds/metalmeisje
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She always looks best like this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	what we do when we're bored

**Author's Note:**

> A dark 'assassin husband and wife' drabble for Ali. <3

Xephos has always taken a liking to watching the remnants of blood swirl through the drain, washing himself clean of all the evidence that clung to him long after the last screams had died out and the world was silent again. Running a nail brush over his nails, bristles roughening up his fingers until they are as pristine as ever. A surgeon’s hands, someone had told him once, taking his hand in hers and running her thumb over his knuckles with a faint sense of admiration. He’d laughed, said _yeah, maybe in another life I would have been a surgeon. Who knows._ Her nails had looked so pretty on their own too, scattered on the floor instead of clawing his eyes out like she’d promised him.

He smiles a little at the memory before running his fingers through his hair, carefully untangling the strands and rinsing out the shampoo until the water pooling around his feet turns a lighter shade of pink instead of the bright crimson that it had started out as. The water is hot, almost too hot; just the way he likes it. Just on the right side of too-painful, deliciously burning away the soreness of his muscles.

“Got room for one more, dear?”

Lom shoves the shower curtain to the side without much pretence and grins at him, her clothes a bloodied heap on the floor, and Xephos feels his heart skip a beat like every time he sees her. Gods, but she does look best in moments like these, covered head to toe in blood that drips in her eyes and in rivulets down her thighs. Maybe the only thing that beats the image is the way she burns bright as a star with someone’s life in her hands, never looking away from him even as she cuts someone’s throat and lets the body drop on the floor like a puppet whose strings have been cut.

“For you? Always,” Xephos replies softly and takes her hand, dragging her under the shower with him and stepping to the side so that she has the warmth all to herself. Her laughter clashes against the tiles as she shakes her hair out of her face, eagerly moving into the touch when Xephos runs his hands through the long strands and busies himself with rinsing out the blood.

He can’t resist a taste, licks the blood off her neck and smiles against the heated, wet skin when she leans back against him. And when he sinks his teeth into her neck, the way she groans shoots straight through him and honestly, there is no other place that he would rather be. Because the blood looks so much sweeter when it’s dripping off her, urging his fingers to follow the streams and dance over her curves even as she turns around in his arms and threads her fingers in his hair. She yanks his head up for a kiss that’s all teeth and he just _knows_ they’re going to run out of hot water before they’re done.

As if it would ever not be worth it. The world is theirs after all; and they’re going to sink their teeth into it and wring all the life out of it _just because they can_.


End file.
